


Tick-Tock, Little Clock

by Blitzindite



Series: Superhuman [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Ableism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drugging, Gen, Slash Wounds, knife, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blitzindite/pseuds/Blitzindite
Summary: "No one can hear you ticking. Condemned to silence like the broken little clock you are."





	Tick-Tock, Little Clock

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Slash Wounds, Knife, Drugging, Ableism  
> Superhero AU  
> Prompt seven of my Forty-Theme Challenge. Prompt was "trust"  
> Stopwatch = Jameson, Doctors = Healer (Dr. Iplier) & Medic (Schneep), Runner = Eric Derrickson

Stopwatch hissed between clenched teeth; a hand pressed to the shallow wound in his side. The Glitch was…so much faster than he’d anticipated. That new wound; it should have been so much deeper. He was holding his punches. Why?

 

The hero swallowed. Each slash wound across his body burned worse than many he’d received in his career. None of them were even that bad. He shouldn’t even be calling them “slash wounds.” They were just…shallow cuts.

 

The Glitch clicked his tongue; spun his knife in his hand.

 

_What can you do, little Pocketwatch?_

 

The voice echoed in his head. That’s all it ever did. No one knew if the Glitch even had a mouth behind that bandanna; if he did, he never spoke from it.

 

_Can you see how much time you have left? No, no. Certainly not. What use are your powers, Clock? Even the Doctors and Runner are more useful than you._

 

Stopwatch’s cheeks burned with anger, but the Glitch only giggled.

 

_The Doctors can’t even defend themselves. One of them and the speedster with legs gone or useless. Crippled. Yet the others still find more use in them than they ever can in you~_

 

His knees buckled as the Glitch just grinned. His limbs felt heavy. Too heavy. His muscles didn’t want to cooperate. The arm supporting him slipped to put his face in the cement floor. Stopwatch couldn’t even find it in himself to blink; his eyes locked on the Glitch and unable to move.

 

_No one can hear you ticking. Condemned to silence like the broken little clock you are._

 

The hero’s throat felt tight even as his breaths came rapidly. Wide eyes remained pinned on where the Glitch had been standing even as he moved.

 

Poison. A paralytic. The Glitch had coated his blade with it, hadn’t he? Anxiety spiked in the hero at the thought. Would it make his breathing stop? Maybe his heart? How long?

 

_Determined to be a loner. Only you can’t call for help like Magnificent._

 

The Glitch circled back into his line of sight and knelt down. His eyes were far too green and the corners crinkled as he must have smiled behind that bandanna. He rested his blade over Stopwatch’s throat, a few inches above the scar hidden by his suit.

 

_Now look at you. Your time is coming to a close, little clock. And I get to watch._

 

The blade tapped once, twice, then withdrew.

 

_Trust me when I say you won’t be missed. I don’t think they’ll even notice your absence, so needn’t worry._

 

The hero wanted to curl in on himself, but he couldn’t. _He couldn’t._ He couldn’t even close his eyes. Couldn’t move them to follow the Glitch as he shifted away again. Each breath became harder to take in and push back out. Each one shallower than the last. The Glitch’s hand brushed under his nose to feel for his breathing, then pulled away as he chuckled. How could that sound be so warm coming from that…that _creature?_

 

_The brain can go six minutes without oxygen before it begins to die, little Clock. Are you counting? Tick. Tock. Your time is running out._

 

Stopwatch’s lungs spasmed as he struggled to breathe. In, and out. His breaths started stuttering as his vision swam and darkness encroached on the edges.

 

In the back of his mind, he was aware of multiple footsteps; of the Glitch’s irate screech and mechanical whirring near his head.

 

“Stopwatch? Stopwatch?!” A faked American accent slipped into German as large hands turned him onto his back and started pressing on his chest.

 

He was briefly aware of pain as a rib cracked. Then, nothing.


End file.
